One Hit Wonders
by Amey
Summary: After a murder in a popular midtown nightclub, Goren and Eames must investigate, and they believe the key to solving this crime lies with the band who played there. Rated PG-13 for some cursing.
1. Chapter One

DISCLAIMER: I, much like several of the characters in this story, am nothing more than a broke college student with too much time on my hands. I have borrowed Goren, Eames, Deakins, and Carver from Dick Wolf, hoping he won't mind. However, should he decide to sue, the only things worth value I would be able to pay him with are my underused textbooks. They _could_ be worth quite a fortune, however, as they look like new! I also do not own the lyrics to Boulevard of Broken Dreams, those are Green Day's. Hollywood Highlife isn't a real club that I know of, at least in New York. And, finally, The State University of New York, College at Old Westbury is not my property, it is the property of New York State, I just dorm there. The misfortunes explained in the final scene, while they have not happened to me (yet), are typical of the school. Don't even get me started on the cafeteria food….

A/N: This is my first published fan fiction of any type. I gave it a shot. I personally think the ending is too quick and the last line is incredibly cheesy, but I had some trouble coming up with their little one-liner for the closer. Please review it, but gently as I don't want my spirits crushed. Although, if I really suck I want to know…but at the same time…Oh, whatever. Just do what you're gonna do. Just please keep in mind I'm a rookie!

**Chapter One**

**A**lexis set her guitar back into its case and closed the snaps.

"Great show, kid," the club owner said, walking up to her. "Here's your band's cut. Give me a call again in about a month; I'll see what I can do for ya." He stuck his cigar back in his mouth and walked away. Alexis thumbed through the stack of cash and then waved the rest of the band over to me.

"Great job guys," she said, meaning it. "I'm sorry I've been riding everyone so hard lately, but-"

"Forget it, Lex," Tony, the bass player, cut in. "We've got midterms, too."

Alexis couldn't help a smile. "Well anyways, the manager gave me a grand. Split five ways it's two hundred each." She started passing around everyone's cut.

"Any news about another gig?" asked Zeke, the drummer.

Alexis nodded, reluctantly explaining. "He said to give him a call in a month."

"A month?" was the chorused response.

"Two hundred is supposed to last us a month?" Justin, guitar and backup vocals, asked. "I still haven't been able to afford to buy books this semester, and midterms are next week! Not to mention phone bills and credit card debt!"

She held up her hands. "Hey, and I'm not going through the same problems? What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to the owner!" Justin insisted. "He can do better than this, it was a full house! And it's not like we suck, either."

She sighed. She didn't have much choice. Brave the club owner, or brave the wrath of the angry band, who were about to turn into an angry mob. At least if the owner lost it, her band would back her up.

* * *

**A**lexis knocked lightly and waited for the gruff "Come in." She opened the door and closed it behind her. 

"Mr. Sutiani."

He looked up from counting his night's take for a glance, and then went back to counting. She couldn't help noticing how many stacks of greenbacks there were. Suddenly the once seemingly generous thousand for the night seemed like nutshells.

"Yeah, whaddya want, kid?"

She gently cleared her throat. "Mr. Sutiani, I need to talk to you about our payment."

"Ten percent of the door, that was the agreement."

She took her time, trying to carefully word her next question. "What, exactly, was the door tonight?"

He looked up and pulled his cigar out of his mouth. He eyed her a long moment before responding. "What, exactly, are you implying? You think I'm cheating you out of money?"

"No!" she answered a little too quickly. That's exactly what she thought. "No, not at all, sir. I was just curious."

"How much did I give you?"

"A thousand."

"A thousand times ten. Then I guess the door was ten thousand. Aren't you supposed to be in college?"

She ignored the verbal jab. "Well, sir, the problem is, split five ways it's only two hundred for each of us, and you're not offering us another job until next month… It's just-I guess what I'm saying is it's not enough."

He pointed at her with his cigar and spoke with narrowed eyes. "You don't want to play here anymore, fine with me. I got plenty of other acts eager to take that stage."

"That's not what I'm trying to say."

"You know what, don't call in a month. In fact, don't call. You'll be lucky to get a gig in this city again!"

"You can't do that!" she replied shrilly. "We've depended on your generosity for almost a year! You can't just all of a sudden kick us out like that!"

"The hell I can't!" he roared back. "Now you listen to me, you little-"

"Excuse me," a small voice said from the doorway. Alexis whirled around. "I-Is everything okay in here?"

It was Sutiani's assistant.

"Everything's _fine_, Jerry. _Alexis_ was just _leaving_."

She turned back to face Sutiani. "Fine," she said, bringing herself back to composure. "We'll just see how long this club lasts without my band."

Alexis turned on her heel and stormed past Jerry, ending up knocking him with her shoulder on accident because the little prick didn't get out of the way. She got back to the band and picked up her guitar case. She didn't need to explain what had happened. They'd heard the shouting. They knew. There'd be no more Broken Dreams at Hollywood Highlife.

* * *

**A**lexis sat at her desk trying to write a midterm paper which was due in an hour. She was only on the second page. It was the last midterm for her and the last class before the weekend, so she was incredibly eager to get it done. All she had to do was explain in precise detail how a neuron works. She was just beginning to explain the action potential when the frantic banging started. 

"Lex! Lex, open the door, _please_!" Even through the pounding and the voice distortion (he was crying), she could tell it was Justin.

She saved the file she was working on and stood to open the door. Hell yeah, he'd definitely been crying. His face was beet red, his normally sleekly gelled, curly hair was a mess, and his eyes were red and swollen.

"What? What's wrong?" She thought he was going to give her some bad news about Eric. He'd left the band for a while to detox from cocaine, and had come back with some problems, but he'd been doing okay. He'd picked up the keyboard right where he'd left off.

Justin sank into the oversized bean bag chair and handed Alexis a crumpled up paper. She watched him sniffle and stifle sobs as she unfolded what he had handed her. It was one of those computer generated security letters from the school that you had to tear the ends off to open. She read it, and then read it again. He'd failed two midterms; he was on academic probation.

"Registrar said they might take away my financial aid. Depending on how my other two midterms came out they might even kick me off campus and I'll have to commute. If my mom finds out…"

He covered his face and shook for a minute. Alexis reached behind him to her makeshift TV stand (a nightstand with a Rubbermaid storage bin on top, on which her TV was haphazardly perched) and grabbed some tissues for him. He mumbled his thanks and wiped his eyes and blew his nose. She pulled the trash can over for him. She loved Justin (as a friend), but there was no way she was touching his snot.

"Justin-" She didn't know where to begin.

"It's all because I couldn't buy my books! I didn't have anything to study except my notes!"

"You couldn't borrow a book from someone?"

He shook his head. "Everyone was using them, no one could spare one." His expression suddenly turned from one of extreme depression and defeat to one of extreme anger. "This is _all_ Sutiani's fault. If he'd given us some more money, or at least some more shows…" He stopped and bit his bottom lip, shaking his head in anger, staring at the floor.

There was a light knock on the door. Alexis opened it and Eric walked in.

"Hey guys," he said in his quiet, low-pitched voice. "I heard Justin in the guy's wing. I wanted to make sure everything's okay."

Justin looked up at Eric and quickly made sure he had no more tears hanging out on his face. "Yeah, fine," he answered, suddenly nearly completely composed. "I'm on academic probation."

"Books?"

"Yeah."

"Me too."

They both looked at Alexis. "Hey," she said. "I have another job; I bought my books in January."

* * *

**"H**ey!" Sutiani shouted. "I told ya, you and your little band are no longer welcome here! I'm not giving you any more money! It's your own fault, don't go blaming me!" 

"Mr. Sutiani…" Jerry stood in the doorway in a state of slight shock. "Is there a problem?"

Sutiani looked back to the young man seething in front of him. "I don't know. Is there a problem, kid?"

Eric's eyes narrowed and he tensed up, but almost immediately relaxed again. "We'll see." He turned and stormed out of the room.

Sutiani put his cigar back into his mouth and paid attention to papers spread around his desk. "Did you want something Jerry?" he asked gruffly.

Jerry stood nervously five feet from Sutiani's desk, eyeing the portly man, searching for the words to describe his request.

* * *

**J**erry knocked lightly on the door. He looked to the man who was with him and offered a timid smile, not wanting to knock any harder. The last time he'd knocked like a regular person, he'd disturbed Sutiani while he was trying to sleep away a hangover. Rather bad one, too. But when this knock received no answer, Jerry knocked a little harder. Then a little bit harder. Finally, Jerry gave in and opened the door a crack. 

"Mr. Sutiani?" He called meekly. "Your accountant is here to see you." No answer. Was he not there? But it was almost two; he was always in by noon, assuming he left the night before.

Jerry ventured further into the room. An odd smell hit his nostrils. It was coming from behind the desk. Curiosity getting the better of him, Jerry walked slowly to the desk. The smell was getting stronger. He braced himself before standing on his tip-toes and taking a peek. He immediately fell backward and stumbled out of the room while pulling his cell phone from its belt clip and nearly knocking the accountant over. The sight of a fat, dead man with his eyes popping open and a half-smoked stogie hanging out of his gaping mouth was just too much for Jerry to stomach.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Please refer to notes and disclaimers in chapter one.

**Chapter 2**

Light bulbs flashed amid the hum of a busy crime scene. The medical examiner crouched over the body behind the desk, taking notes. In the middle of the hubbub stood NYPD Detective Robert Goren, taking in the scene, picking up whatever clues he could.

Finally, after a few moments of contemplation, he made his way over to the body and the medical examiner.

"Strangled," ME Warner explained. "It doesn't look like he put up too much of a fight. There are no lacerations or other marks to suggest a struggle. I put the time of death between midnight and four AM."

Goren studied the body for a moment. More specifically, the ligature marks on the victim's neck. "This is interesting," he said. He pulled a pen from a pocket and used it as a pointer, without actually touching the body. It _was_ very interesting. There wasn't one single line around the victim's throat, but rather six very thin lines, close together.

Warner looked. "The killer could have been shifting to get a better grip. It happens. Each time he changes position, the ligature leaves a new impression."

Goren nodded, but his curiosity was not satisfied. "But it would stay the same size, wouldn't it?" He pointed with the pen to the topmost line. "At the top…here…it's thicker than the rest." He moved the pen to the next line. "And this one…it's second thickest." He pointed at each of the other marks. "The pattern continues all the way down. They go in order. Biggest…to smallest." He put his pen away.

Outside in the hallway, Detective Alexandra Eames was busy making some discoveries of her own. As Goren fiddled around with the stiff in the next room, Eames stood in the hallway jotting notes as she spoke to Joey Sutiani's anxious assistant, Jerry Barone.

"I-I-I just showed up a little before t-t-two o'clock. I w-was running late, so I-I didn't want to knock on his d-door." Jerry paused and swallowed some excess mucous that had been building up in his throat. "B-But he had an appointment with his accountant." He gestured toward a tall, thin, bald man with glasses in a suit speaking with another detective a few yards away. "I buzzed the intercom, and when he didn't answer, I knocked on the…" Jerry closed his eyes and took a breath to calm himself. "When he didn't answer, I opened the door and I smelled this awful…I looked behind the desk and that's when I ran out and called 911. I've watched _Crime Justice_ enough to know not to touch anything. The only thing I touched was the doorknob, and I don't think I st-stepped… Well, I tried my best not to disturb anything."

Eames nodded, trying _her_ best not to let her annoyance show. "Did Mr. Sutiani have a problem with anybody recently? Any employees recently let go, dissatisfied customers, anything like that?"

Barone wiped away a single tear and sniffled while shaking his head in the negative. "Hollywood Highlife has always provided top quality food, entertainment and service. According to our latest online polls, our customer satisfaction is at 97, and we hope to achieve the other 3 soon. Anyway, most of our clientele are tourists. They wander over from Times Square or their hotel manager suggests us. As for employees, no one's been let go in the past year… Except…"

Eames stopped writing and looked up with an inquisitive expression, waiting for Jerry to continue. He didn't.

"_Except_…" she prodded.

"Well, I don't know if it means anything. We had a band that played here every once in a while. Some college kids from Long Island. A couple weeks ago I walked in on a boisterous argument between the lead singer and Mr. Sutiani. It was a dispute over money. Mr. Sutiani told her she was no longer welcome to play here. But they haven't been a problem. Well, except for last night."

"What happened last night?"

Jerry hesitated. "I overheard a heated argument between Mr. Sutiani and the band's keyboardist. He was trying to get more money out of Mr. Sutiani. The boy has a drug problem, from what I've heard."

Eames held in a smiled as she scribbled down that last tidbit. "How about his personal life? Any problems there?"

"Mr. Sutiani _was_ going through a divorce. From what I heard it was rather ugly. I don't know many details; Mr. Sutiani wasn't much of a gossip."

Eames nodded and forced a look of understanding.

"Close up shots and far away shots," Goren was saying to a CSU tech with a camera. "Make sure those marks are focused, I don't want blurry pictures."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his partner approach and he turned to talk to her. "Anything?"

"The assistant listened in on a couple arguments between Sutiani and members of a band he'd fired, and he was going through a divorce. Other than that, it seems he was generally liked."

"Well, someone didn't like him."

* * *

**Apartment of Mrs. Sutiani**

**1052 5th Avenue**

**Friday, March 11, 2005**

Ariana Sutiani sunk into the couch and absently pulled a tissue from the box on the end table to dab at her eyes.

"Mrs. Sutiani, we understand you and your husband were going through a divorce," Eames said gently, taking a seat on the couch across from the widow. Goren stayed standing.

The middle-aged woman nodded. "He'd been spending too much time at work. That's why I had him hire an assistant, so he didn't have to be there all day and all night. At first it worked, but after a month he was right back where he was before."

"How were the assets being split up?"

"He was—Why?"

The detectives exchanged a look before Eames continued. "We were told things weren't…going well."

"Ah huh." Mrs. Sutiani took this in for a moment. "I feel I should have an attorney."

"When you're ready to talk to us, just give us a call." Eames handed the woman a business card before standing to leave.

Goren, however, wasn't ready just yet.

"Mrs. Sutiani, I noticed there are pictures of you and your husband placed around the house," he said, gesturing to some frames on the mantle and hung on the wall.

Mrs. Sutiani followed the gestures and smiled nostalgically. "Yes, we had some great times together. Times I wish weren't over…but I guess there's no chance at reconciling now."

Mrs. Sutiani let out a long, sorrowful breath. The moment of silence was broken from a phone ringing from another room. Mrs. Sutiani excused herself as she rose from the couch and left the room.

Goren watched the woman leave the room. "If things weren't going so well, why was she considering reconciliation?"

"Maybe it was one sided…?"

"Or… Maybe things weren't going as bad as we're supposed to think."

* * *

On the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza, the Major Case squad room, Goren and Eames briefed their Captain in his office. 

"The brass want a quick resolution to this one," Captain James Deakins lectured. "Nothing kills tourism like a high-class murder in midtown. No pun intended."

"We looked up the divorce records," Eames said. "Everything was being split down the middle; Mrs. Sutiani was going to be a millionaire. They had put the negotiations on hold while they discussed the possibility of reconciling. Either Sutiani lied to Barone, or Barone's lying to us."

There was a tap on the glass door, and Goren opened it to take a file from a secretary.

"Got something?" Deakins asked.

Goren nodded slightly as he scanned the papers. "One of the band members has a record. Eric Bigelow. Arrests for possession, possession, burglary, possession. Drug of choice: cocaine."

Deakins took the file and glanced through it. "All right. Go have a chat with Mr. Bigelow."

* * *

**State University of New York, The College at Old Westbury**

**Dorm #4, Room 118**

**Friday, March 11, 2005**

Eric was halfway down the hallway before he noticed the man and woman knocking on his door. He pulled his key out of his pocket and cleared his throat as he approached. He immediately noticed the familiar glint of detective badges as the two turned toward him.

"Looking for someone?" he asked as casually as he could while he unlocked his door.

"Yeah, you, Eric" Eames said.

Eric snorted a laugh as he walked into his room and tossed his books on his bed. "Okay. How can I help you, detectives?"

"You can start by telling us where you were last night," Goren said, looking through the textbooks on Eric's desk.

Eric thought for a moment. Carefully. "There was a campus party at 11 that I went to."

"What about after the party?" Eames asked.

"Came back here and crashed."

"And what time was that?"

Eric's eyes slid up toward the ceiling and he unconsciously crossed his arms. "Um, I think around two-thirty or three."

Goren picked up a textbook and started flipping through it. "_Forensic Psychology_. You know, I took a class like this when I was in college."

Eric offered half a shrug. "Yeah, it's all right. I took it last semester."

"My favorite chapter was the one on lie detection," Goren continued. He stopped flipping pages and scanned an interesting passage. "Yeah, here. Ways to tell when a person is lying. Their eyes dart to a different area, they cross their arms…"

Goren looked up from the book. Eric immediately dropped his arms to his sides and took a step back.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Maybe I didn't get back to the room until four." Goren opened his mouth to say something, but Eric was quicker. "Maybe five."

"University Police have you coming through the front gate at 5:17 this morning," Eames said. "Did you forget they check ID's between 10pm and 7am?"

"I—Last night is a blur, I don't really remember too much."

"Do you remember going to Hollywood Highlife in midtown?" Goren asked, finally closing the book and setting it back on the desk.

"Oh, is _that_ what this is about? What's that son of a bitch saying? I didn't do _anything_!"

"He's not saying anything," Eames said. "He's dead."

Eric stopped moving and stared at the detectives. "_Shit_, are you serious?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"He was murdered at about the same time you were there, Eric," Goren said.

It took him a moment. "No. No, no way! I didn't do anything, I swear to God!"

"Come on, Eric," Goren said, taking a few slow steps toward the young man. "Sutiani…he gypped you and your band on your last gig. You're in college; you have bills, books to buy...Other…recreational things… You went to him to ask him to hire you again, or to ask him for more money. What happened? He refused? Tried to kick you out? You...you got mad?"

"No!" Eric turned his back to the detectives and ran his hands through his bushy hair. "Not again. Oh God, please not again."

"Eric…"

He turned back, his face red. "I went there. But I didn't _do anything_! I just went to talk to him. I didn't understand why he was ripping us off like that. He started yelling at me, and I started yelling back. Then his faggot assistant came in and Sutiani told me to get out. I left. I swear to _God_ I left! I went to a place around the corner and got trashed. Hopped on the train back to Hicksville and got a cab back here. I paid with a credit card all night, just check the records! _Please_! I got clean six months ago, I'm straight, I swear! I didn't kill anybody!"

Goren nodded. "Okay Eric. We will. Thank you." He and Eames turned to leave, but at the door Goren turned back. "What about the initial dispute between Sutiani and..."

"Alexis," Eric said. "I don't know, it was just her and Sutiani in the office, right after our last show. She's down the hall in the other wing if you want to talk to her, too. Room 146."

* * *

Alexis lay on her bed with her cayenne Gibson Les Paul Standard resting on her stomach as she absently strummed out a tune, her mind wandering around aimlessly. As she became more wrapped up in her thoughts she began to mutter out some words. 

"I'm walking down the line

That divides me somewhere in my mind

On the borderline

Of the edge and where I walk alone.

Read between the lines-"

Just as she was about toreach the chorus there was a loud knock on the door. She was way too comfortable to move from her bed.

She kept strumming as she called out, "It's open!"

When Alexis saw two people she didn't know step into the room she sat bolt upright, letting the guitar fall into her lap.

"Who the hell are—" She stopped when she saw the badges. "Oh."

"Alexis Mitchell?" Eames asked. "I'm Detective Eames, this is my partner Detective Goren, NYPD. We just have a few questions for you."

Alexis stared for a moment. "Uh…okay." She slid the guitar back into its case on the floor, and hopped down from the bed.

"You're in the band Broken Dreams, correct?" Eames asked.

Alexis chuckled. "'In it'? You could say I'm 'in it.' I'm the founder. I got the group together and I do the booking."

"You got your band booked at Hollywood Highlife?"

Alexis pulled out her desk chair and sat down, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, last May. Owner's an asshole though, we're done there."

"Why do you say that?" Goren asked.

Alexis shrugged. "He cheated us out of some money. I confronted him and he told me not to come back. It was fine by me. We got labels looking at us now, anyway, so it doesn't matter.

"The money," Eames started. "Is that what your argument was about?"

"_That_?" Alexis looked surprised. "That _was_ the argument, and it was like a month ago." Suddenly she looked a little suspicious of the detectives. "Why? What's going on?"

"The _asshole_ was murdered this morning," Goren said.

"Oh, shit, for real? That blows."

There was an awkward silence while Goren and Eames watched Alexis run this through her mind. She finally snapped her head up and stood from the chair.

"Wait, wait, wait," she said. "What does that have to do with me?"

Goren, however, was looking behind her. "Is that…is that a Gibson?"

Alexis turned to look where Goren was pointing as he subtly pushed past her to the guitar case lying on the floor.

"Yeah," Alexis answered, obviously puzzled.

Goren smiled gleefully as he picked up the cayenne-colored guitar from its resting place.

"Hey, be careful," Alexis warned.

Goren strummed out a few notes. "Wow, this is nice," he said. He watched Alexis out of the corner of his eye. She was terrified.

"What happened on your last night at Sutiani's club?" Eames asked, drawing Alexis' attention away from Goren and her guitar.

"We finished our set, Sutiani came backstage, gave a job well done speech. He handed me the cash and left. I started counting it out, and it was only two hundred each and he wasn't giving us another show for a month. The band made a fuss, I went into Sutiani's office to talk to him, he shouted at me, I shouted back…then his little bitch assistant came in and Sutiani made it sound like I was the one who had said we didn't want to play there anymore."

Goren hit a chord loudly, drawing the girl's attention back to him. "Where were you last night, Alexis?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "_Studying_."

Goren hit another chord, fumbling with the guitar. Alexis gasped and reached out to catch it before it hit the floor. Goren kept hold with one hand.

"Where?"

Alexis thought fast and spoke faster, in a complete panic. "I was in the library with Zeke and Tony until they closed at eleven, then we came back here to the lounge until two, then we went to the diner in East Meadow, they're open twenty-four hours." The look of skepticism in Goren's face (and the fear of losing the guitar) prodded Alexis on after a pause. "Empress Diner in East Meadow, they'll remember us, we kept playing with the jukeboxes. They asked us like three times to stop."

Goren finally gave a slight nod and let go of the guitar, Alexis just barely catching it. He stepped around her back to Eames.

"We're going to need to talk to Zeke and Tony," Eames said.

Alexis crouched down to set the guitar back safely in the case. "Zeke Masterson is in 312 in this building and Tony Castinelli is in Building five in 207. Justin Woodwater is also in the band in case you want to talk to him, he's Tony's room mate."

"Thanks Alexis," Eames said. "Here's my card in case you think of anything else."

Alexis stood and took the card, refusing to take her eyes off of the detectives until they were both gone. The door was starting to close when a hand pushed it back open.

"Is that, uh… Where do you… find a guitar like that?" Goren asked.

Alexis was visibly annoyed. She sighed heavily and crossed her arms. "A music store," she answered flatly.

"You pay for it with… you have a part-time job…?"

Alexis couldn't quite stifle the laugh. "Yeah, because anyone can afford a Gibson on 6.50 an hour." She looked at the guitar, then back at Goren. "Anything else, _detective_?"

"Uh…no. Have a nice day."

He finally let the door swing shut and walked toward the elevator with Eames. "A Les Paul Standard," he said quietly. "She had every right to be sarcastic. It's a 3500 guitar."

"So how'd _she_ get her hands on one?" his partner responded.


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Please refer to notes and disclaimers in chapter one.

**Chapter 3**

Goren and Eames sat at their desks when Deakins approached, looking for a status report.

"We talked to the whole band," Eames explained. "They all have alibis. We checked with Bigelow's credit card company, they confirm a purchase of an LIRR ticket at Hicksville at 1am, a few beers at a dive off of 42nd St, another LIRR purchase from Penn Station to Hicksville at 4am, and a cab ride at five. Cab driver picked his photo from an array. Mitchell, Masterson, and Castinelli were seen at the Empress Diner on the Hempstead Turnpike in East Meadow from three until five, and Woodwater was on the phone with his girlfriend at 3:30 for an hour, confirmed by both the girlfriend and the phone company."

"So it wasn't any of these kids," Deakins concluded. He looked down at Goren, who was looking through a file. "What do you have?"

"File on Jerry Barone," Goren answered, looking up at his boss. "He has priors for possession and larceny."

"Bring him in," Deakins answered.

* * *

**Major Case Squad**

**Interrogation Room A**

**Friday, March 11, 2005**

"That was just a misunderstanding," Jerry explained nervously. "The larceny… my boss at another job didn't like me, so when money started coming up missing he just blamed me outta nowhere, and I mean _nowhere_. The possession…well that I'll admit. I was coming home from a party and I had a little pot in my pocket. I haven't touched the stuff since. I'm telling you, that Eric kid, _he's_ the one with the drug problem."

"We're looking into that," Eames said. "Where were you this morning between midnight and four?"

"Me? I punched out at two and went home and went to sleep."

"Alone?" Eames asked.

He seemed to be searching for something. Goren caught his eyes and brought them down from the corner of the ceiling.

"Were you alone, Jerry?"

"Yes," he said. "I was alone."

"We have a problem, Jerry," Goren informed him. "You were seen coming out of the club closer to three. How is that possible?"

He tried to stay tough, but Jerry finally caved. "Joey and I were lovers. It ended a few months ago, but this morning when I walked in and Joey was arguing with that kid… he left and it was just me and Joey in the club and… I don't know what happened, we just picked up where we left off. Afterwards there was no small talk, I just left to go home. He was fine when I left. He was putting his pants back on and said 'See ya tomorrow, Jer.' That's what he called me, he called me Jer."

"Who ended it?" Eames asked.

"I did. His wife found out about us so I ended it. She filed for divorce anyway. I felt-I still feel horrible. I feel like it was my fault, even though Joey told me dozens of times it wasn't. I still care about him, even after he's dead. I would never hurt him. Never."

He gasped out the last word before collapsing into a sobbing heap on the table.

There was a knock on the door before an officer opened it and stepped in to hand a file to Eames, who was closer. Both detectives looked it over while Jerry took his time.

"Jerry," Goren said. "Were there any instruments kept around the club?"

Jerry sat up and wiped his eyes. "There was one. A Fender autographed by Aerosmith. Joey kept it on a display stand in his office."

A tap from behind the large mirror caused Goren and Eames to stand and gather up papers.

"Thanks Jerry," Goren said. "We'll be right back."

In the viewing room, Goren handed the autopsy report to Deakins.

"Guitar strings," Goren said. "The six ligature marks, all different sizes… He was strangled with the strings from the Fender."

ADA Carver spoke up. "So Jerry Barone is no longer a suspect?"

Goren looked through the glass at the little man. "I don't see it. He genuinely cares for Sutiani."

"Who then?" Deakins asked. "The wife?"

"She has an alibi," Eames answered. "Locked up tight in her high-security home."

Goren cocked his head. "The only people I can see having a viable motive are the kids in the band."

"Who, as I understand it, all have alibis as well," Carver answered. "Detectives…"

"Why don't we find the murder weapon," Goren said. "Maybe that will give us some answers."

* * *

**Office of the Medical Examiner**

**Monday, March 14, 2005**

"After you called I had a search team go through the dumpsters behind the club," ME Warner explained, leading the detectives to a table with some sort of mass piled on top of it. "They found it at the bottom. It's been waiting for you since Friday night. A Tie-Dye Strat HS, hippie blue with a polyurethane finish, complete with Aerosmith autographs."

They arrived at the table and stared down at the once guitar. It was in pieces. Someone had really given it a beating. The strings lay in straight lines next to the heap.

"This is definitely your murder weapon," Warner continued. "I found DNA on the strings and compared it to Sutiani's. They matched. The strings fit perfectly in the impression on his neck."

"Did you get any prints?" Eames asked.

"Oh did I," Warner answered. "Every person who walked into that office probably touched the guitar. Only one got a hit. Right forefinger of Eric Bigelow. Know him?"

"Yeah, we know him," Eames confirmed.

* * *

**Major Case Squad**

**Interrogation Room A**

**Monday, March 14, 2005**

"Why are you guys stuck on me?" Eric paced angrily around the interrogation room. "I told you what happened! I left when Jerry walked in! Didn't you check with my credit card?"

"We did," Eames said, matter of fact. "But we still have a problem. Your fingerprint came up on the murder weapon."

"What murder weapon?" Eric exploded.

"The Fender Strat you ripped the strings off of and used to strangle Joey Sutiani," Goren answered.

"The-The Strat? The tie-dye one? No way! Look, everyone…_everyone_ who goes into that office touches that thing. It's like the holy grail!"

"No, see, _you're_ the only one who touched it who has a criminal record," Eames said. "A few possessions, burglary…"

"No, I _told_ you guys, I'm straight! I went to rehab last year! I've been out and clean for six months!"

"Money's tight now," Goren said. "Maybe you needed a fix…"

"No!" Eric said firmly. "I didn't." Eric paced around some more, grabbing hair and muttering to himself. He looked back up at the detectives. "I want a lawyer," he said. He pulled a chair out and sat down.

Goren and Eames walked out of the interrogation room to be met by Deakins.

"Still suspect number one?" he asked.

Goren shrugged and gave a look that said 'square one.'

"There's a young woman here to see you two about Mr. Bigelow," Deakins said in response. He pointed to one of the visiting rooms across the squad where a young dark-haired woman sat waiting. Even from there the detectives could tell it was Alexis Mitchell.

Alexis sat in the glass room anxiously bouncing her leg and chewing her thumbnail. Sure, she'd come in without an appointment, but how long could it possibly take to find the two detectives? She'd been told they were both here. She thought about finding someone to complain to until she looked at her watch and realized it had only been seven minutes and then felt completely foolish. Finally, the glass door opened, causing the blinds to swing around, and Goren and Eames walked in, Goren closing the door behind them.

Alexis jumped from her chair, words spilling out of her mouth at once. "This is totally unfair! Why are you harassing Eric? He didn't do anything! Didn't you check his credit card? He wouldn't hurt a fly! We've got serious record labels looking at us. We should be _thanking_ Sutiani, not _killing_ him!"

"Ms. Mitchell, please have a seat," Goren said, holding his hand out to the chair that had almost toppled over in Alexis' verbal attack.

Alexis sat down again, obviously frustrated. "Eric didn't do it. What do we need to do to prove that to you?" She looked from Goren to Eames as they took seats across the table from her. She was being genuine, as far as Goren could tell.

"Well, the evidence is telling us that he _did_ do it," Goren said.

Alexis shook her head. "What evidence? DNA? Fingerprints? What?"

"We can't discuss-"

"Oh, don't feed me that bullshit," Alexis interrupted. "You got nothing."

Goren cocked his head.

Eames decided to take over. "Eric is the only suspect that came up with a recent criminal record," she said. "Criminals tend to repeat themselves."

"Eric is _not_ a criminal!" Alexis insisted vehemently. "He had problems, yeah, but _had_ is the key word here. He hasn't been arrested since last year. He got into rehab and he's been clean ever since. What did _your_ records show? Because as I recall, he was _never_ arrested for a violent crime. They were all possession busts, except a burglary, and that-" Alexis sat back in her chair, catching her breath. "That wasn't even really a burglary as much as a misunderstanding."

"Well, who in your band makes a better suspect than Eric?" Goren asked. "Because, right now? He's the best one we've got."  
"Why does it have to have been anyone in my band?"

Goren shrugged. "Give us someone better," he said.

"Sutiani and his assistant were fuck-buddies, why don't you try him? He was going through a divorce, you could try his wife." Alexis stood, ready to leave. "Although, I _know_ you're not getting investigation tips from a _college junior_. I'm telling you, you got the wrong guy."

Goren stood and opened the door. "We'll keep that in mind," he said. He waved an officer over. "The officer will show you out."

He closed the door behind her and turned to Eames.

"She really thinks he didn't do it," Eames said.

Goren nodded. "I don't think he did… But they know who did. At least, she does."

* * *

Alexis wiped her eyes before the tears fell as she stepped out into the sunlight. Eric had been through so much in his life and he had just finally started to get things together. She couldn't let those cops destroy all that progress, especially for something he didn't do. 

She headed toward the corner of Centre and Chambers Street and waited for the walk signal. She normally loved walking around downtown, looking at the old architecture, walking through City Hall Park, grabbing a bite at the McDonald's a couple blocks down on Broadway. Today all she wanted to do was hop a train back to Long Island and sleep the rest of the day away.

As she crossed Centre Street, she felt a vibration from her jacket pocket and pulled her phone out, fumbling a little as she tried to open it. She realized she was really shaken.

"Hello?"

"Lex! It's Justin! Guess who just called?"

"I don't know, who?"

"Arista!"

Alexis stopped in the middle of the sidewalk in front of City Hall, absently staring at the digital screens on the stairs that featured a man on one and a woman on the other, both walking in place. "Get out."

"I'm serious! They said they called you but you didn't answer so then they called me! They're signing us! They want us in as soon as possible! I'm on the shuttle on my way to the LIRR now!"

Alexis' heart jumped, but almost immediately her stomach dropped. "The cops aren't letting Eric go," she said numbly. She began walking again. "They say there's too much evidence against him."

"Relax, Lex, he'll be fine."

"I hope you're happy, Justin." Alexis pulled the phone away from her ear and closed it, heading down the stairs of the City Hall subway station.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Pleas refer to notes and disclaimers in chapter one.

**Chapter 4**

"So if Bigelow is out, who do we have left?" Deakins demanded from behind his desk the next morning.

"It's definitely someone in that band," Goren insisted. "I'm positive that Bigelow and Mitchell both know who it is."

"If Mr. Bigelow knows who actually committed the murder," Carver pointed out, "why wouldn't he tell us? Why is he willing to go to jail to protect the real perpetrator?"

Goren thought for a moment, tilting his head sideways. "Maybe he thinks it's for the greater good."

"You think he's taking one for the team?" Eames asked.

"Maybe," Goren answered. He thought for another second and pointed at Carver to get his attention. "Can you get an indictment on Eric Bigelow?"

Carver thought this over. "I suppose that he _is_ the only one with opportunity. His fingerprint _is_ on the murder weapon, and he certainly had motive."

Goren nodded. "And then I need a material witness order for Alexis Mitchell." Carver seemed about to object, but Goren spoke first. "She knows who it is. She's deliberately withholding that information from us. She's not from this area. If you subpoena her, she might run back home to Rochester, which is only an hour and a half drive from Canada… Uh… did we mention she has family in Canada?"

It was thin, but they were definitely on to something.

Carver finally nodded. "All right, detective. Consider it done."

* * *

**Arista Record Company**

**New York, New York**

**Tuesday, March 15, 2005**

Zeke put the last signature on the contract and slid it back to the men in suits along with the pen. Everyone stood with a smile.

"I think we're making the right decision here," one of the suits said. "Welcome aboard, Broken Dreams."

Outside the conference room, the band members lingered around, promising to catch up later for a few beers to celebrate. After a few minutes, only Alexis, Eric, and Justin were left. There was an awkward moment as they avoided each others eyes, not wanting to talk about the only thing there was to talk about.

Justin shoved his hands into his pockets. "Thanks, you guys," he said. "For sticking up for me."

"Sticking up for you?" Eric said. "You mean being arrested and interrogated for hours for you."

"Hey, that wasn't me, you can thank your habit for that!"

"I'm clean!" Eric roared.

"You guys, shut up," Alexis hissed. "People are looking."

"You know what, I don't need this right now," Justin concluded, throwing up his hands. "I'll see you tonight."

Alexis watched him leave. Eric spoke first.

"Lex, you've always been the one with your head on straight."

Already the tears were welling up. Alexis shook her head. "Don't, Eric. Please don't ask me to do it."

"Lex, you know they're looking at me hard."

She met his eyes. "How hard? They let you go, didn't they?"

"For how long?" It was a valid question. "I have the record, I had the opportunity, God _knows_ we _all_ had motive. It's only a matter of time before they come back to me. Or you. How much is this deal worth to you? Is worth my life?"

Neither said another word. They stared each other down for a long minute before Eric walked away toward the elevators. Alexis stared after him until he pushed the call button. She closed her eyes, letting the tears spill over. She quickly wiped her face and headed for the restrooms.

Alexis stepped off the elevator and into the lobby just in time to see the commotion outside.

"Eric?" she asked aloud to herself. "Oh my God."

She ran out the door to Eric, but was pulled back by a uniformed cop.

"Eric!" she yelled. She was just in time to see him pushed into an unmarked Crown Victoria in handcuffs.

Alexis pulled her arm away from the cop and was about to ask what was going on when someone behind her took her other arm and pulled her away. She looked up to see Detective Goren dragging her toward a blue Mountaineer. Eames appeared on the other side of her.

"What the hell is going on?"

"We're serving a material witness order on you," Eames said as Goren opened the door.

"What is that?" Alexis demanded. "Witness to what? What's Eric being arrested for?"

"That's what we're going to talk to you about," Goren said. "Please…" He gestured into the car.

Alexis rolled her eyes and sighed disgustedly, but complied.

* * *

Eames had barely stepped into Interrogation Room A when Alexis was out of her seat, demanding to know what was happening. 

"What could you have possibly arrested him for? I know it wasn't for murder, because he _didn't do it_! If it even _gets_ to trial, there's not nearly enough evidence to prove beyond a reasonable doubt it was him. You're putting an innocent man in jail!"

"I'd be more concerned about my own situation if I were you," Eames said, closing the door. "Please sit down, Ms. Mitchell."

Alexis sat down in a huff, Eames taking a seat right after.

"We obtained a material witness order for you," Eames explained. "We have an indictment for murder on Eric. You have information we need about this case. The way it works is you talk to me now; tomorrow you'll be arraigned before a judge. How you cooperate now will influence the judge's decision on bail-"

"_Bail_!" Alexis couldn't believe what was happening. "I'm under arrest? I haven't done anything!"

"Alexis, right now you need to listen to me," Eames said, becoming annoyed at the interruptions. "Tell me what you know, and the judge may grant release on your own recognizance."

Alexis sat back in the chair, crossing her arms. "I would, but I don't know anything about what happened. I wasn't there."

"Who was?" Eames asked.

"_I don't know_."

Eames shook her head and looked through some papers. "We got a copy of your recording contract. Congratulations, by the way. I was wondering about this passage here-" She slid a sheet of paper across the table for Alexis to read. A portion was highlighted. "The part that says if Justin Woodwater leaves the group the contract is null and void. What makes _him_ so important?"

Alexis shrugged, sliding the paper back across the table.

"Is he _that_ talented that without him no one would buy your record?" Eames put the paper back into the folder. "He _is_ a handsome young man. If _he_ was around when I was your age… Boy, I'd buy _anything_ with his face on it."

She closed the folder and looked up at the girl. All Alexis did was turn her head toward the door and start to bounce her leg.

* * *

"I don't need a lawyer," Eric said. "I didn't do anything. I didn't kill anybody." 

"Come on," Goren said. "Are you really going to take the fall for this kid?" Receiving no answer, he continued. "We read the contract with Arista. There's a clause that says if for any reason Justin leaves the band your contract is 'null and void.' Is that why you won't tell the truth? Recording a CD is more important than being cleared of a murder?" Eric stewed in his chair, staring at the table. "I gotta tell you Eric, recording an album won't be easy to do from an eight by ten cinder block cell upstate."

Eric looked up sharply. "Find the murderer and I guess I won't have to try."

"That's what we're trying to do," Goren answered. "But you and Alexis have information that we need." Eric looked back down to the table. Goren ducked his head, trying to catch his eyes. "Come on, Eric. You would rather serve life in prison for a crime you didn't commit than lose this contract? Either way, you won't be a part of it."

Eric raised his head. He was fighting an internal struggle between loyalty to his friends and his own freedom. He took a deep breath. "It was Justin," he finally answered.

"What happened?" Goren asked.

"I don't know. He must have been waiting somewhere until Jerry left for the night and then snuck in and killed Sutiani. He got back to campus and went into Lex's room. She said he was all hypersensitive and freaking out. His hands were all marked up and scratched. He told her he'd killed Sutiani."

"Did he say why?"

Eric shook his head. "He failed his midterms. He's on academic probation because he couldn't afford textbooks because that asshole wouldn't pay us right. I don't even think he told his mother yet. She rides him pretty hard. He was really upset. The school was threatening to pull his financial aid and kick him off campus. He'd have to commute from Coney Island every day."

* * *

"Why do you keep picking on my band?" Alexis demanded. "We all have alibis, for Christ's sake!" 

The door opened and Goren stepped in, quietly taking a seat next to Eames.

"Not quite," Eames said, pulling another sheet out of the folder in front of her. "We checked Justin's cell phone records. Turns out he called his dorm phone from his cell phone at three-thirtyto re-routed a call to his girlfriend. He made it _look_ like he'd been on the phone from his room, but the cell tower his call came from was Manhattan."

Alexis sat staring at this new piece of evidence, her mind whirling.

"There's also the statement Eric just gave," Goren jumped in, pulling the paper back. "He implicated Justin. He also told an interesting story of him going to _your_ room right after he killed Joey Sutiani."

Alexis looked up at Goren. She seemed to be considering her options, which were few now.

"It seems like everyone is hung up on this contract," Goren said. "Would it help you make up your mind if I told you we talked to the people at Arista? Told them what was going on?"

"You didn't," Alexis said, trying to convince herself he really didn't.

Goren nodded. "Yeah, they were surprised and uh…well grateful to me for telling them. They already revoked the contract."

"It's amazing how some companies are just terrified of bad publicity," Eames said.

Alexis stared at the detectives, trying to stay in denial as long as possible. "You didn't," she repeated. "Why would… No." She was trying to hold back tears. "We w-worked so h-hard…"

"Well you can thank Justin," Goren said, tilting his head. "I mean, after all, he _is_ the one who murdered Sutiani." Alexis wasn't biting. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you… Your guitar. A Les Paul Standard, right?"

Not quite grasping his point, she nodded. "Yeah." Her voice had suddenly become hoarse.

Goren nodded. "They run…what? A grand?" She didn't answer. "Three grand? How'd you come across one? I mean, you only make 6.50 an hour at the Broadway Multiplex. You said so yourself… And if Sutiani wasn't paying you-"

"He gave it to me," Alexis said, finding her voice, though barely. "For Christmas."

"A thirty-five _hundred_ dollar guitar…?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Alexis exploded. "We _didn't_ have a motive! He bought us gear, he bought the Les Paul, he bought Zeke new cymbals, last summer Tony needed strings for his bass. If he hadn't fired us, we never would have been signed by Arista!"

Goren nodded. "So why did Justin kill him?"

Alexis weighed her options. The contract was canceled, what was there to lose? She couldn't live with herself if she let Eric go to jail because she didn't confirm what she'd seen with Justin. She bit her lip, making the biggest decision of her life.

"Justin holds grudges," she finally explained. "He lives to please his mother, which is impossible. He could be President, and she'd still be disappointed. When Sutiani fired us, he didn't have money for textbooks. He failed his midterms." She looked up at the detectives. "He didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident. He just went there to scare him into paying us more, that's _all_!"

Goren thought for a moment. "Alexis… for us to drop the charges for Eric and arrest Justin, we need something more. Would you be willing to wear a wire?" He could she was hesitant, but she _was_ considering it. "Maybe we could get Arista to reinstate that contract for you."

Alexis' initial instinct was to say 'absolutely not,' but something stopped her from blurting that answer out. She thought about Eric, everything he'd been through in the past year, how he'd gone back to school, finally started to clean up his act. Against her better judgment, she nodded slowly.

"I'll give it a shot," she said reluctantly.

* * *

**State University of New York, College at Old Westbury**

**Building 4, Room 146**

**Tuesday, March 15, 2005**

Alexis jumped when her door flew open and banged against the wall. Justin stormed in, pissed off.

"What's _your_ problem?" she asked. _Other than the fact that you're about to go down for murder_.

Justin sat in the desk chair and faced Alexis, who sat on her bed.

"You would not _believe_ what I just went through. I went to bursar to pay their retarded twenty dollar fee to drop one of my classes. I'm thinking if I only have to bring three classes up to passing it'll be easier than four, right? They tried to charge me forty bucks. I pointed at the sing hanging _right_ in the window and told them it was twenty and they were like no, it's forty. So I finally said I want to talk to their boss and he says yeah, twenty, _duh_. So they're like sorry, twenty dollars. Whatever. I went to turn the sheet in to registrar, and they're like 'Are you registered here?' So I was there for a half an hour while they tried to find my file. _Then_ I had to go to Res Life because my internet's been down for a week and a half and I'm getting really _sick_ of going up that Godforsaken hill to the library every time I want to check my e-mail. They tried to tell me I don't live on campus because I'm on academic probation, meanwhile no one told me I had to leave, and they looked some stuff up and they're like oh sorry, that's after your second warning you get suspended…" He paused and caught his breath. "Alexis, I _hate_ this school! Everyone's got their heads up their asses; no one knows what the hell they're doing!"

Alexis nodded from the bed. "That's SUNY for you," she said.

"What's with you?" Justin asked, just noticing her quiet demeanor.

She shrugged. "You haven't talked to Eric?"

Justin shook his head. "No. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know," Alexis answered casually. "Maybe because he was _arrested_ today."

"Alexis," Justin warned. "Don't start with me."

From the next room, Goren, Eames, Carver, and a wire tech listened in on the conversation. Justin's voice came in through the headphones.

"He didn't do it; the cops'll figure it out between Krispy Kreme's and let him go. I mean, they're dumb but they're not _that_ dumb."

"How do you think that'll happen, Justin?" Alexis' voice asked back. "They have his prints, he's got a record… What conclusion would you draw?"

Back in Alexis' room Justin shook his head and stared at the floor.

Alexis leaned back against the corner of the room. "I still don't understand why you had to kill him in the first place. We wouldn't even have to be in this situation right now. We'd be celebrating our new record deal."

Justin was out of the chair lightning-fast. "I've told you over and over!" he shouted. "I didn't mean to kill him!"

Eames smiled in the next room. "Got him."

Alexis looked at Justin, shocked. "Justin, not so loud," she said, hopping off her bed. "Someone's gonna hear you!" _Beautiful_, she thought to herself. _I deserve an Emmy_.

"As long as _you_ hear me!" Justin said forcefully. "I did _not_ mean to kill him! It was an _accident_."

"Wrapping guitar strings around someone's neck is an accident?" Alexis asked.

"You know what I mean," Justin answered. "I didn't mean to get so mad, it just happened."

Alexis nodded sarcastically. Justin stared at her.

"Who told you about the—"

There was a knock on the door as it opened. Both looked to see Goren and Eames walk in. Justin returned his stare to Alexis who looked back at him.

"You… You rat!"

Alexis' eyes opened up wide. "Justin, I—"

_Smack. _The hit barely registered before Alexis lunged. Goren pulled her back to get her out of the way and went straight to Justin, turning him around and shoving him against the wall to handcuff him.

"You bitch! You lying, rotten, spoiled little bitch!"

Alexis held her stinging face while Eames moved past her to help Goren.

"You're the one that killed a person!" Alexis screeched back.

Two uniformed officers came in and took the handcuffed Justin Woodwater to the door.

"You're gonna pay for this Alexis, I swear!" he shouted on his way out. "I've killed before, you watch your back, bitch!"

Alexis watched as he was dragged from the room, still shouting and cursing from the lobby.

"Are you all right?" Eames asked Alexis.

The girl nodded, a little embarrassed. "Yeah," she said. "Just sorry I couldn't get in a kick to the nut sack."

The wire tech motioned for Alexis from the door and she started to follow him into the surveillance room next door, but then stopped and turned back.

"Will you really be able to get them to reinstate the contract?" she asked Goren.

Goren gave his head a slight shake. "It might be hard to keep it, actually... I mean, now that you're star is going to prison for a long time."

Alexis stared at him. "You- You lied?" She couldn't get over the shock. The tech tugged on her arm to get her going. Alexis backed out the room, still staring at Goren until she could no longer see him.

Carver entered, looking pleased. "Very nice confession," he said.

Goren nodded.

"_This_ team is no one hit wonder," Eames put in.


End file.
